A Bit About Forgetfulness | Jhs.

a bit about forgetfulness | jhs.

pairing. none really

genre/prompt. alien! au

word count. 600+

content.  none questionable

synopsis. Hoseok has a very different idea of who’s in the wrong here. 

writer’s note. written for the BTS Ghostie Writers Net’s writing bingo! This was a quick little thing I had in mind that I wanted to get out. I plan to make bigger alien fics though maybe one for each member since I really love those kinds of aus.

-x-

“Now, why are you glaring at me?” said the red-haired boy across from you whilst rolling his eyes. You scowled at his answer, clear distaste showing across your features just like the hour prior. He really didn’t see what was wrong with what he did, huh?

“Well, gee, let me think Hoseok! First of all, you drak all the almond milk and left the two other types of milk completely untouched—three cartons by the way, if I needed to remind you-- in the fridge. Then, you clogged the toilet with your… your powers just because you thought it would be funny to see my reaction and now well I don’t know, my roommate is right in front of me acting like he doesn’t know me and looks genuinely concerned! I don’t know Hoseok, it doesn’t seem too farfetched to think that the fact that Jungkook is looking at me like I kidnapped him is your fault! Call it a hunch!” Your statement ended in frustrated screaming as he looked at you with a expression that could be described as guilt mixed with mirth and that only served to fuel your potent fury at your unexpected new roommate. Hoseok was an alien, in simple terms. He referred to himself as an “intergalactic being whose sole purpose is to reignite the Earth with its needed life-force”, but you stopped listening at the big word “intergalactic”. He said he came from the universe over, his planet deeming him most fit to do this role. When he introduced himself, his name was a series of clicking and whistling, and your puny college student brain could not manage to do such a thing any time you wanted to call him so he was simply Hoseok for now. He was well-versed in the English language, though, another attribute that won his superiors over for this mission. Even if he didn’t know the certain word for something, he’d simply use a scenario or a sentence to describe the word he’s looking for and you’d be able to provide, the only real up-side for you to being an English major.

He scrunched his nose and looked at the slightly disheveled younger man sitting on the floor, now coaxed with an ice cream cone and a Switch from his earlier “who are you?! Where am I?!” tangent. If there was anything to calm the younger man from anything during the scorching months of summer, it’d be the banana ice cream cones from the corner store. The Animal Crossing villagers’ language as his character interacted with them was all that rang through the apartment as his brain whirred to formulate a coherent, stutter-less response and his above-average-sized “heart” beat. It took several moments before he met your eyes and simply muttered a guilt laced “I’m sorry”. The roll of your eyes caused him to at least try and defend the Jungkook situation.

“Well, about the chi—err, Jungkook… He had asked, quite enthusiastically if I may add, to see some of my powers and I had planned to simply change his hair color. As you can probably assess, however, my mind… what is it…? Bu… ‘Bugged’ out? Is that the right word? Anyways… since my mind inflicted it with no set ill intent, however, it is most probably that his… amnesia? Forgetfulness will wear off in twenty-four hours or so. Most probably, anyway,” he finished, letting out an awkward cough at you clear distaste at the fact that he wasn’t even sure that your precious little roommate would ever remember you again. You needed Jungkook to pay his part of rent and if he can’t remember anything, he can’t do anything to pay it. So, you were in trouble and so was he. Essentially, Hoseok royally screwed up and you were on the very verge of evicting his otherworldly ass out. It’s not like he paid rent anyway.

“Well, lady, I may not know you, but you sure do know your way into a man’s heart, I’ll tell you that,” spoke up Jungkook from his sitting position on the floor, eyes still glued to the screen. Jungkook’s phase when you had first met of having an infatuation with you was finally happening again. All you could do was groan helplessly and hope that Hoseok was right.

-o-

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

dusk till dawn | kth.

pairing. taehyung x female! reader

genre/prompt. misunderstandings, marriage! au, angst

word count. 1.2k

content.  none questionable, maybe hinted cheating? but it’s a misunderstanding so not entirely

synopsis. You trusted him with your heart, but after seeing him with another, could you again?

writer’s note. written for the BTS Ghostie Writers Net’s writing bingo! It’s not based off the song of the same name but I did listen to it while writing. This is my last square in the row I chose :) Everything flowed out surprisingly quickly for this one. Like it took one hour at most, but I’m proud of it. 

    The flickering of lights showed little solace to the broken heart which you nursed. As you clutched your body, shaking with the sobs which consumed it, the broken pieces of your heart before you seemed to mock your naïveté. You’d placed the entirety of your trust on his palm only for him to close it and crush it. It’s not as though you could deny yourself of his blatant infidelity. You’d watched it happen after all. The Louboutin stilettos you’d picked for today which were once on your feet laid at the door of your shared bedroom with the one which you though was your beloved. You’d dressed up to surprise him and yet, all you’d found once you neared his office was your heart cracking. The journey home was filled with questions of superficial concern uttered by those which served your husband, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but nod and send a watery fake smile. Every minute you’d spent replaying the scene you walked into caused your heart to shatter just a bit more, making it so by the time you walked numbly into the bedroom, your knees buckled and your face gave out. Your face of pretense was unable to be kept any longer than it already had been put up. No, everything was not okay.

    You weren’t meant to walk into that, that much you were aware. After all, why would it be intended for you to find your husband with his shareholder’s mouth on his? No, you hadn’t stayed long enough to watch as he pushed her forcibly away from himself and break their contract. How could you stay that long? Your weakened heart didn’t allow it. You’d read too much about this, all of your friends had gone through this, everyone had told you of the possibility of this. An affair. Your vehement refusal of the fact that your husband, sweet and lovesick Kim Taehyung, would partake in such a vile thing. He was always similar to a lost puppy when it came to you after all. He’d worked so hard to get you, it was almost laughable how it’d never popped into your mind. The biggest question in your mind as you laid on the floor of the darkened bedroom who’s only light was that of a candle was ‘what do I do now?’. A fairly simple question which would garner several answers with which you, however, did not want to partake in. As much as it devastated you, you couldn’t bring yourself to loathe him. As much as every breath with his betrayal in your mind hurt, you didn’t want to end things with him. Even if it hurt, you wanted him by your side. You wanted—no, needed— to forget what you saw. Your body and mind craved for him reassurance, his warmth. If he denied and was not truthful, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

    The soft thumping of sock clad feet resounded, nearing the door you had shut in haste to hide yourself to the world. The soft knocking went not unnoticed, but ignored by you. It wasn’t until you felt the familiar warmth of your lover pressed to your back and his soft lips meeting your cold skin in comfort that you reacted at all. Your sobs had subsided, but as his broad frame embraced your smaller one, you’d started to let out cries of despair. He whispered simple words of comfort, attempting to subdue your audible grief. It had worked. After what seemed like a couple minutes, you’d be reduced to sniffling.

    “I know you saw. I saw you run in those... towers by the door.” You made no attempt to respond at his attempt of a joke. You didn’t know what would be acceptable in a situation like this for your well-being.

    “I’m going to be truthful, as I always am with you, my love. Please don’t doubt me, I beg you. I love you too much to let you go like this. Please... please look at me, my love.” You’d zoned into how his chest tumbled as he spoke. His words were gentle and full of genuine sencerity. You’d trusted him all these years, it’s not like you can’t bring yourself to again. Still, you’d graced him with nothing but silence. He sighed, knowing he couldn’t do anything but wait. Slowly, his words registered into your brain and just as slowly you attempted to face him from your kneeling position on the floor. He looked just like when you’d both met at the coffee shop you worked at. He would come in every morning despite having several assistants which would break their back to do anything he asked of them. Yet, he’d always make time to pick up his order every morning. He’d never pick up coffee, which you found peculiar for someone who looked like a businessman. He’d always pick something sweet paired with some pastry you offered at the location. Every day for two years he’d never failed to show up every morning until he, finally, asked you out. One could only guess the chain of events that happened before this moment. It was nothing short of sickeningly sweet and fairy-tale raquel days. This, however, was the first and biggest hurdle your relationship decided to encounter. How cruel could life be? He looked nearly the same, just a few minimal wrinkles of age here and there which would show as he did different expressions. He was still the same, however, and that hurt. How could the same Taehyung you knew all this time do such a thing to you?

    His expression was that of soft panic, his fear of losing you outshining any other emotion. You both looked at eachother for a few more seconds or minutes, maybe, before he continued.

    “i’m not going to say it was an accident.” The scattered pieces of your heart showed new cracks within them. They’d be nothing but dust by the end, you figured. You looked down at the floor.

    “I knew she was intending to kiss me. I didn’t think she’d try to, though. You have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t something i wanted. I’ve done everything I can to keep things professional between us, but she doesn’t get tired of trying. I didn’t know she would do this. Ple—please look at me.” Could you believe him? You closed your eyes and inhaled a heavy breath, laden with your insecurities. Looking into his eyes, maybe it was wishful thinking, you saw they held the only emotion he’d retained throughout his his entire ordeal: sincerity. You could see even remorse. His brain was filled with ‘If only’ and ‘I should’ve’ thoughts. He hoped—desperately—you could believe him. He’d heard many in his position talk of this situation happening and he didn’t want the end they described to happen.

    “I know I should’ve pushed her off as soon as she neared me, but she always flirts with me and never steps over the line. I should’ve done it immediately, but I was stunned. If checking the cameras will make you happy then I’ll arrange so that you can look at the footage.” He suggested his voice softening and lifting into what sounded like a question. You took his cheeks in your warming hands and softly pecked him. You’d believe him, even if your brain screamed that he wasn’t being truthful. Even if your body didn’t want to believe the truth he spoke, you trusted him with your life.

-o-

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

    The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself.  The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that.  He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

   The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

ways to help protestors if you are unable to protest

everybody has to do their part. as a reference, this was posted on 1 june 2020. if any links are broken or direct to a place they should not, please feel free to add on with corrections. if there is new information with better knowledge, please feel free to share. thank you.

1. donate

do not donate to shaun king. he has repeatedly collected money to “support” black people, but no one knows where the money is.

BAIL FUNDS (ALPHABETICAL ORDER; NOT A COMPREHENSIVE LIST)

note: washington dc and new jersey have cashless bail systems.

bail fund google doc (also includes lawyers for protestors)

national bail fund network (directory of community bail funds)

community bail funds masterpost by @keplercryptids

resistance funds (google sheets; lists bail funds around the country)

nationwide bail funds (split a donation to the bail funds listed on the linked page with a single transaction)

atlanta bail fund

brooklyn bail fund

colorado freedom fund

columbus freedom fund

houston chapter of black lives matter

liberty fund (nyc based; focuses services on people from low-income communities)

los angeles freedom fund

louisville community fund

massachusetts bail fund

minnesota freedom fund (as of may 30, 2020, they are encouraging people to donate elsewhere since they have raised enough money; as of may 29, 2020, they do not have a venmo, as some fraudulent accounts have been claiming, source)

philadelphia bail out fund

richmond bail fund

MORE PLACES TO DONATE

note: more links are listed in the masterposts below.

northstar health collective (healthcare and medical aid for people on the front lines)

reclaim the block (aims to redistribute police funding to help the minneapolis community)

twin cities dsa (provides fresh groceries and hot meals to people in minneapolis)

2. educate yourself

it isn’t enough to sign petitions and reblog/retweet/etc. nonblack people, including people of color, owe it to black people to educate themselves and correct themselves and the people around them on anti-blackness.

note: more links are in the masterposts linked below.

resources and tools regarding racism and anti-blackness (google sheets compilation)

readings on society, racism, the prison system, etc. (twitter thread)

“where do we go after ferguson?” by michael eric dyson

official black lives matter website

3. give out supplies to protestors

people need supplies to protest safely, and even if they bring supplies with them, they can often run out. if you’re able, stock up and hand them out to people protesting. for more supplies to donate, see the “george floyd action” google docs link in section 5.

water bottles (dehydration and heatstroke are not things people should have to deal with alongside bastard cops. if the police in your area are particularly violent or known to use tear gas, get the ones with the sports cap/suction-thing/etc so people can use them as emergency eye-flushes.)

snacks (make sure to take into account that people have allergies of all sorts. foods will have a little label that says “may contain” and then list any potential allergens. write the allergens on the ziploc (or any container you use) in permanent marker, or better yet, write the snacks included in the pack.)

masks (don’t forget there’s still a pandemic going on. also it will aid in deterring facial recognition when the police try to track down protestors,  also part two, if the cops use tear gas, wearing a mask (with the combination of a scarf or bandana) will lessen the adverse effects. lessen, not stop.)

bandanas, scarves, etc. and goggles (ski goggles, swimming goggles, etc.) (see above for explanation on the scarves. same goes for the goggles. anti–tear gas and anti–facial recognition.)

clean shirts (for people who are heavily gassed. also helps deter recognition through clothing.)

wound care supplies (band-aids, packets of neosporin packets or a similar antibiotic, alcohol wipes, etc.; if you can, decant bactine into those little travel bottles.)

a sharpie or another type of marker (for writing bail numbers or emergency contacts on arms, hands, etc. it’s not enough to have your city’s bail fund number stored on your phone; the police won’t give it to you to look it up. give people a marker so they can write it down, preferably not washable so it isn’t easily removed.)

IMPORTANT: KNOWING FIRST AID

tear gas: if you’re hit, get out as fast and as soon as you can. take anyone you can with you. the longer you’re in the gas, the harder it will be for you to see, and it can irritate your airways, making it hard to breathe. if you’re hit, don’t run; it’ll only make things worse on your lungs. when you leave the area, take a cold shower. don’t use hot water (it will only reactivate the agent); don’t bathe (it will only spread the CS around). (source 1) (source 2) (cdc fact sheet on tear gas)

move them to a clean and ventilated area where it’s as safe as possible.

ask them if they’re wearing contact lenses. have them remove it. if they’re wearing glasses, rinse it with water.

solution of half liquid antacid, half water. spray from the inside going out, with the head tilted back and slightly towards the side being rinsed. if they say it’s okay, open the eye slightly while doing this. (source)

bullet wounds: the most important thing is to stop the bleeding. be sure to check for an exit wound and cover that as well. treat both wounds, but treat the worse one first.

stop the bleed (youtube video by uc san diego health)

first aid in active shooting scenarios

making a tourniquet (a commercial tourniquet is best, but improvised ones can work as well if done properly; the most important things to remember is that tourniquets are for limb injuries and are not meant for the head or torso and that they have to be very tightly wound on the injury.)

how to apply pressure dressings

miscellaneous

adult cpr tutorial (youtube video by cincinnati children’s; think of “staying alive” by the beegees or “uptown funk”)

4. be a source of information

be responsible with this. people’s lives are at stake. that being said, the media is a fucking joke and the best way to get accurate information in a grassroots rebellion is amongst ourselves. record everything, but if you are going to share any information at all, be sure to blur people’s faces.

signal (encrypted messenger app; messages delete after x amount of time): app store | google play

tool for scrubbing metadata from images and selectively blurring identifiable features

tech tips to protect yourself while protesting (by rey.nbows on tiktok, via vicent_efl on twitter)

cop spotting 101 (google docs)

know your rights (by personachuu on twitter)

NUMBERS TO CALL FOR ARRESTED PROTESTORS (ALPHABETICAL ORDER; SOURCES LINKED TO THE NUMBER)

remember to keep phones OFF unless absolutely necessary. cell phone towers, stingrays, location notifs can all be used to track you and other protestors. don’t fuck around. if your phone must be on, keep it on airplane mode as often as possible and only communicate using encrypted methods. no, snapchat doesn’t count. (a twitter thread on stingrays, for those interested)

lawyers assisting protestors pro-bono (by riyakatariax on twitter)

atlanta: 404-689-1519

chicago: 773-309-1198

minneapolis: 612-444-2654

5. miscellaneous links and links for protestors

masterpost of petitions to sign, numbers to call, places to donate, and more (carrd by dehyedration on twitter)

#blacklivesmatter (google docs by ambivaIcnt on twitter; includes information on relevant events, other masterposts, lists of petitions and donation links, how to protest safely and protests to go to, and more)

george floyd action (google docs; includes information on apps to download, supplies to buy and donate, places to donate to, protest safety, resources on unlearning racial bias, and more)

how to get out of ziptie “handcuffs” (by finnianj on tiktok, via katzerax on twitter)

how can i help? by @abbiheartstaylor

how to make a signal-blocking cell phone pouch

tips for protestors by @aurora00boredealis

twitter thread for protestors (by vantaemuseum on twitter)

also, if you’re protesting, change your passcode. make it at least 11 characters long and don’t use facial/thumb recognition.

part 3 is coming soon hehe

goodnight n go | pjm. | two

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.7k

content. nothing bad besides some cursing

writer’s note. I finally managed to write this part omg 😭😭😭 This part came out a hell of a lot long after the first, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I’m a student so finding time to write os really hard. I made time and finished this at 23:47 so really I should go to sleep now🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️Hope you like it! If you read the original texts, then there will be a lot of changes since I can like write better than I used to 2 years ago, not to toot my own horn or anything💀💀Anyways this is getting long, so last thing. Remember that Jimin calls his daughter terms of endearment in Korean, a.k.a words in Korean are bolded. That’s all. Thank u :)

parts. one / two / three

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